


We had crêpes

by Lepa93



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepa93/pseuds/Lepa93
Summary: Crowley hasn't shown up for a few weeks, and Aziraphale is starting to get bored. After a phone call with the demon leaves him confused and intrigued, he pays Crowley a quick visit.Or Crowley tries to cook crêpes, but isn't very good.





	We had crêpes

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted some crêpe making fluff. I dunno why I headcanon Crowley as being bad at cooking, but I figured it would make a cute ficlet.

Aziraphale sat in his favorite, comfortable armchair, cradling one of the new books that had mysteriously appeared in his bookshop after the failed apocalypse – courtesy of young Adam, he presumed. Crowley hadn't been by in weeks now, not since their last excursion to the International Market a month after what was supposed to be doomsday. They – meaning Aziraphale – had crêpe's again, as the angel had spotted a French stall serving them with all sorts of toppings: nutella, bananas, strawberries et cetera. Now, time apart was no odd thing for the angel and demon pair, but Aziraphale had grown tired of the constant stream of customers attempting to buy his priced books. With no Crowley to drive them away, he even found himself bored and missing the demons company, and food always tasted better with company.

The small lavender scented candle next to Aziraphale flickered and slowly died out, and Aziraphale gently closed the book and placed it on the table with a sigh. He marched over to his old landline, once again dialing the same number he had dialed many times these past few weeks, and waited. It didn't take long until Aziraphale heard the far too familiar answering machine croak: 

”Hi this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.”

”Crowley, I've been hoping to visit the new bakery here in Soho, I would like some company if you are able.” Patiently, Aziraphale waited for an answer. And he waited, and waited, until he finally heard the telltale scuffle of the phone being picked up. The angel was sure he heard a metallic clang and a soft curse before he eventually heard Crowley answer.

”Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm- I'm busy today-” Crowley stammered, before he abruptly cut himself off. Aziraphale heard another clang, like pots and pans being shuffled together or falling on the floor, and what he suspected to be the high pitched shriek of a fire alarm. ”Shit, I gotta go.” Was the last thing Aziraphale heard the demon say before the phone call ended. Staring down at the receiver, Aziraphale scoffed, thought to himself for a moment, before his face twisted into a questioning frown. He lay down the phone, straightened out his bowtie and promptly stepped out of his bookshop.

No more than 10 minutes later, the angel found himself in a large apartment complex, ringing the door bell of the one and only, Anthony J. Crowley. Ever patiently, he waited for the demon again. This time Aziraphale didn't have to wait long before the door opened with enough speed to cause the angel to flinch. What stood in front of Aziraphale was a very unkempt looking Crowley, a very strange sight for anyone who knew the demon and how much he valued his appearance. A blue apron adorned the demon's lithe figure, and white dust covered half of the demon's dark shirt under it. Uncharacteristically, the demon was also not wearing his usual sunglasses. 

”Angel? Wha-” Crowley stammered, looking straight into the angel's eyes. Aziraphale smiled, trying to hold in the giggle that threatened to escape. 

”I admit the, uh- phone call earlier left me a tad concerned.” He said, eyeing the haphazard appearance of Crowley before him. ”I was certainly not expecting... well, this.” Aziraphale said, failing to hide the amusement in his voice. ”I do hope I'm not interrupting anything important.” Crowley sneered at him and groaned. ”May I come in?” After a short pause of Crowley trying to think of what to say, opening his mouth and closing it again, the demons shoulders slumped and he stepped out of the way.

”Ugh, come in Angel.” Crowley said and held the door open until Aziraphale was fully inside his apartment, then closed it with a bang that was a tad too loud. Aziraphale smiled at the wonderfully well cared for plants, before he crinkled his nose and sniffed the air.

”Oh dear, is something burning in here, Crowley?” He eyed questioningly at the Demon beside him, who was busy trying to brush the white powder off his clothes. 

”What? Uh um- no? Just, you know, regular demonic smells and what not.” Crowley said just as the fire alarm began to ring in the kitchen again. Aziraphale stared at him with raised eyebrows. Crowley gave Aziraphale a blank stare and shrugged his shoulders. In return, Aziraphale gave him a knowing look. ”Alright fine, just... don't laugh.” Crowley muttered as he led Aziraphale to the kitchen.

The kitchen, usually unused and pristine, looked a mess. Flour was on the marble counter tops, the floor and even, miraculously, on the ceiling. There was a frying pan on the stove top with something that looked like charcoal in it, and there were, what looked to be baking supplies all over the counters. On the left-side counter from the stove top, was a plate full of what could possibly be called crêpes, though they were certainly many shades darker than any regular crêpe should be. 

”Are you-” Aziraphale mumbled as Crowley attempted to silence the fire alarm by smashing it against the counter top, ”Are you making... crêpes?” The angel stared at the kitchen and the plate with his mouth wide open in shock. 

”What's it look like?” Crowley bit back, finally smashing the fire alarm to bits, its wailing silencing with an out of tune beep. The demon ran over to the pan, grabbing it and – yelping as the hot metal burned his fingers – threw the burnt crêpe into the small trashcan in the corner and slammed the pan back on the stove top, now magically turned off. Crowley looked positively frustrated, running his flour coated fingers through his hair as he stared at the overly crispy pile of somewhat round crêpes. ”Ah, it's a damn mess.” The demon cursed and with intention to dispose of the crêpes in the trash along with their many char-coaled brethren, grabbed the plate from the counter. Aziraphale marched over hastily and grabbed the plate, stopping Crowley before the crêpes met their untimely doom. 

”Crowley?” Aziraphale near whispered, looking down at the plate that both he and Crowley were holding, ”Why are you making crêpes?” The angel stared in surprised awe at Crowley, who, the angel could swear, was tinged rather red at the cheeks.

”I- uh-” Crowley started, but couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence. ”Well, I thought-” Crowley let go of the plate and scratched absentmindedly at the back of his head, ”You know, since you liked them and all...” he muttered, and a warm, rather radiant smile found its way to Aziraphale's lips.

”You were... making them for me?” Aziraphale asked, still smiling at the demon before him, who looked away, scratching at his face, clearly hoping he had his sunglasses to cover the slight flush of his cheeks. The demon clearly looked uncomfortable as he shook his head in a gesture that Aziraphale knew to mean yes. ”Oh, Crowley, how wonderful!” The angel exclaimed and, with purpose, walked to the large rarely used dining table and placed the plate down on it. ”Pass me a fork and knife, would you my dear?” He asked Crowley, who looked rather flabbergasted.

”You know they're not- you know, edible?” 

”Oh hush, let me try them, please.” Aziraphale argued, still smiling widely. ”Now, if you could pass me the utensils, I would very much appreciate it, my dear.” Without further argument, Crowley grabbed a pristine fork and knife from the drawers, passed them on to Aziraphale and sat down next to him, lounging in the chair with one arm draped over the back of the modern, relatively comfortable seat. 

”You sure you don't want anything with those?” Crowley asked, looking at Aziraphale with an unsure expression. 

”It's quite fine, Crowley. Although a drink would be appreciated.” Aziraphale said, as he cut into the stack of crêpes and slowly lifted the first forkful into his mouth. He chewed slowly, looking contemplative as he did, his expression eventually settling on a smile again. Crowley stood up to grab a bottle of wine and tall wine glasses from the wine cabinet, and lounged back down next to the angel, before pouring them each a glass. They sat in silence, sipping their wine, and Aziraphale slowly making progress on the burnt stack of crêpes. When Aziraphale was done, he gently placed the fork and knife on the plate and drank the rest of his wine.

”Thank you Crowley, it was quite nice.” The angel complimented.

”You know they were burnt angel.” Crowley said in response, looking disgruntled as he poured more wine for the both of them.

”Well, yes, but you made them for me, Crowley. Do you know what I taste?” 

”What?” Came the slightly irritated response from Crowley. 

”Love.” Aziraphale said as he stared warmly into Crowley's eyes. Crowley looked away, face flushing a deep red, certainly not because of the alcohol. ”So, is this what you've been doing these past weeks? Learning to make crêpes?” Aziraphale asked with a hint of amusement. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, annoyance clear on his face. Aziraphale knew it was mostly a facade and found it rather cute. 

”Not just crêpes...” Crowley grumbled under his breath. If Aziraphale's smile could have been any wider, he would have looked quite like that 'Joker' character from the comics he sometimes saw Crowley read.

”Oh my dear boy, you needn't be embarrassed, it's very sweet of you. I do wish you had told me though, I could have been here to enjoy your previous attempts.” He continued, winking ever so discreetly when he said 'attempts'. Crowley turned away again, flushing an even deeper red.

”Oh shut up.” 

And as Crowley pretended to sulk, Aziraphale laughed and leaned over to give Crowley a soft peck on his cheek, eliciting a rare, genuine smile from the demon next to him.


End file.
